I knew someone who worked at a store that sold lingerie, adult videos, and sex toys. She would talk about all the perverts that would come into the shop and she had some hilarious (and creepy) stories. She had a customer who would come in every few weeks and ask to see what was in the back room. There’s nothing back there, she would tell him. He would wink and say sure there isn’t. This exchange went on for months. Each time he would ask and each time she would tell him the back room was where the employees hung up their coats and microwave their lunches. He was convinced there was something sexier back there besides kitchen appliances and coat hooks. After a while he came in, slapped two hundred dollars on the counter and asked to see what was in the back room. Tired of this exchange, she slipped the money into her pocket and told him to go ahead and look.
A few seconds later he returned and reported besides kitchen appliances and coat hooks, there was nothing back there. He left the store with two hundred dollars less than he had when he walked in and she never saw him again. The store sold fun toys and sexy lingerie and killer stilettos. What he saw in the store was much sexier than anything he couldn’t see.
I think about this story from time to time. It’s a reminder that our fantasies are a lot more fun than reality. I mean, obviously. That’s why they’re fantasies.
Hannah is quite the social media butterfly. I post photos on Flickr, I tweet, and I have had a website for a few years. Being on social media opens up a lot of doors and helps me in a few ways. It raises my profile which helped me get noticed by En Femme and helped create a partnership that I am in love with. Blogging helps me sort out my thoughts, and posting photos, to be honest, helps feed my ego or give me a boost when dysphoria hits.
Of course there is a downside to being this visible. Sometimes when I am feeling ugly or depressed about not looking as cute as I would like to I’ll post a photo because, well, I want reassurance. The likes and the comments help my self-esteem. Not all comments are flattering and posting a picture can reinforce the negative feelings I am having. Sometimes a photo can attract the type of attention I don’t want. The comments might be meant to be complimentary, but they tend to be crude and overtly sexual. There’s a difference between “You look so hot and sexy” and “I really want to fuck you”.
I don’t want you to fuck me, and I don’t want to fuck you.
Before I go any further, I want to make it clear I am not trying to humbly brag about anything. I am not trying to boost my ego by pretending to be offended. “Oh, poor Hannah, people want to have sex with her” you may be thinking. “God, it must be terrible to have guys messaging her asking to go out with them”. I am not flattered in the least by this type of attention or these types of comments. I would prefer not to get them at all.
The messages and comments that I think about the most are the ones that ask me to send them nudes.
You really, really, REALLY, don’t want that.
If I am being honest, Hannah looks way cuter dressed up than naked. And it’s not because I am wearing a cute dress. There’s a lot of time and energy (and money) that I put into presenting en femme. Think I have a nice figure? Thank you, my corset helps. Like my curvy body? I owe it all to my thigh pads. You want to feel me up? You’ll feel up my breast forms. You want to touch me “down there”? You can’t, I’m wearing a gaff. Want to pull my hair? You’ll pull it right off. Want to caress my face? Your hands will wipe off my two layers of foundation as well as my concealer, color correction, and highlighter.
Under all of *this*, I have a body of a cismale in their 40’s. It’s… not cute. You really don’t want to see it. Like the guy from the store, what you see is much sexier than what you don’t.
I don’t want to burst anyone’s bubble, but if you think I’m cute, thank you, but you really, really don’t want to see me naked. So stop asking. You don’t want that. I mean, there’s also the whole aspect of not asking girls to take off their clothes for you, but if you don’t already know not to ask that I really don’t know what to tell you.
(Upon rereading this I realize that this is a very odd thing to write about but I suppose I needed to vent, lol)